Cruel Me

Chapter 7: Still Don't Give A F*ck (present)

(present)

Fuck. What now?

Entering the house, I studied Frisco whose posture screamed uneasy. He was stiff, and close to fidgeting. His breathing was fast, too.

"What's up?"

He nodded to the living room, and grimly said, "We've got company."

I suddenly had a bad feeling about this.

Frisco and I headed there, where I could already hear Alfie's cold voice leave a ring in the air. The house was quiet. Music stopped playing. People surrounded the scene.

Damn.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" spat Alfie.

His cheeks were red, while he swayed a little as he stood. My eyes wandered to the cup of beer in his hand. This wasn't gonna end good if he was the one who handled this.

Him + alcohol + fight?

Bad combo.

"It's a high school party. What do you think?"

I inwardly groaned. I didn't have to look to see who the dipshit was. Just his voice sent an instant chill of rage surge within me.

Why for fuck's sake did they have to barge in and ruin everyone's night? Why couldn't they just fucking keep to themselves like the damn goodie pussies they were? They weren't welcome here. Nothing but a bunch of eyesores.

"Last time I checked," taunted Alfie, frowning as if something baffled him, "there are no losers allowed."

"Then why are you here?" countered Scout, not taking shit from any of us.

Heh. Not for long.

"We're here because we just won a game," I piped in, stepping up beside Alfie. I discreetly waved a hand for him to back away, in case he lose it and lunge. I kept my eyes on Scout, but I saw Alfie move. "A word that seemed to be lost in your vocabulary," I added in a voice full of wonder.

His jaw clenched, and his eyes blazed in anger.

"Plus," I continued, "the hostess personally invited us. How did you get here," I paused to leer at him, "word of mouth?"

"It's a free country."

My gaze turned ice cold, as did my voice. I was reminded of everything they did. The blood they spilled. The spirits they burned down to the ground. The lost justice from it all.

"But not really free people, as you so kindly engraved in our heads."

"That was your own fault," he replied strongly, the crease on his forehead deepened. "Stop blaming me for something you did."

I scrutinized him.

No twitching in his face. No blinking in his eyes. No avoidance of the matter.

And then, something clicked.

I've thought about all those times I've talked to Scout. Now that I considered it, it didn't make any sense if he was behind what happened. It didn't seem like him. He was disgustingly good. No matter what, he'd always been fair and square.

Damn.

He really didn't know anything about that day - what his teammates did. He was honest all this time about being innocent.

That just made him a helluva lot dumber.

I rubbed my face with a hand. "You have no fucking idea, Crimson," I laughed humorlessly, shaking my head.